


Sword of the Morning

by TheRoseOfWesteros



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 19:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12488908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoseOfWesteros/pseuds/TheRoseOfWesteros
Summary: Four times Arthur Dayne forgave his Prince and one time he couldn't





	Sword of the Morning

I

He would remember that day as the start of his life.

Prince Lewyn might have agreed Arthur was to squire for him, had assured Arthur’s father that he would make the young Dayne worthy of Dawn, but Arthur had never needed Dawn until he met her.

As Prince Lewyn spoke to his sister in hushed tones, Arthur found his feet taking him towards a peal of the prettiest notes he thought could possibly exist, to a blood orange tree with heavy boughs of fruit that permeated the air with their sickeningly sweet odour.

He would forget her orange dress, forget precisely how the water had splashed it with darker colors, and he would forget just how her dark hair was plastered to her face as it dripped on her bare feet. But her eyes-

Those eyes would never be forgotten, for they were the same eyes that gave Arthur Dayne a purpose and the ones that took the Sword of the Morning’s away.

She laughed again, and Arthur Dayne thought that he could spend forever listening to that song.

She was dragging him away before he could say much more than his name, handing him an orange and introducing him to one child after the other and making him promise they would be friends.

But then her brother introduced himself as a Martell, and so did she, and Arthur heard the world shatter beneath his feet. For the first time in his life, but certainly not the last, he felt jealous of Prince Rhaegar for his title.

When Prince Lewyn came looking for him, she had been overjoyed, flying to her uncle with Arthur in tow (he had never let go of her hand) and begging him to let his squire visit often, for he was _so kind, truly he was!_

Prince Lewyn had never been able to refuse his little niece, for her persistent gazes and unwavering energy combined with her illness made him want to make her smile at every turn.

Arthur only nodded dumbly, thanking the Prince and trying to ignore the twirls of his stomach as he thought of Dawn and imagined being a knight-

This time she was in the picture, though, and suddenly he didn’t have a singular dream anymore.

 

II

She would greet him with a hug and laugh every time he made it back to the Water Gardens, and he would never mention that he had pushed Prince Lewyn to travel faster, sooner, and for longer hours in order to get to her as soon as possible.

It was another game they played, like cyvasse, where they both pretended they couldn’t see their emotions. It was a game that resulted in him snapping at her uncle about why he had chosen _Arthur_ to be his squire when he clearly wasn’t good enough, and in Elia lying in bed for hours convincing herself that there was no way Arthur Dayne was _fond_ of her.

The last time he ever visited the Water Gardens was the day she sat him down and told him she was betrothed to Prince Rhaegar, to be married in four years time. _Four years was all he had?_

She had begged him to be happy for her (because she didn’t know how to be happy for herself), and he hadn’t even needed to think before putting on the happiest face he could muster and telling her that he was.

Elia tried to do the same for him, pretend she was proud by saying that she was to be a princess, loved, and that Rhaegar was said to be handsome. He, in turn, had tried desperately to keep his voice from wavering with anger or grief as he told her that she already was a princess, but didn’t she know that she was already loved?

Prince Rhaegar wasn’t going to be so pretty with Dawn shoved up his nose. Then again, was it really the Prince’s fault? He supposed not, and tried to quell the thoughts of treason.

She had fallen into a coughing fit so severe he had panicked and would have run for the Maester had she not grabbed ahold of his hand and brought his face down to hers for the longest yet shortest kiss he had ever had.

They both pretended they couldn’t see the tears in the others’ eyes when she apologized for complicating matters, and he assured her it would be forgotten.

When evening came and they still hadn’t moved from their bench, Elia asked him if he thought her worries were ridiculous. He had said _Never,_ and that was that.

When she left, he realized he had forgotten to tell her that Arthur Dayne was now the Sword of the Morning.

 

III

He was asked to kneel before the king on his twentieth nameday, swearing to protect the innocent and those of royal blood and everything in between, but he had only one person in mind as the white cloak was draped about his shoulders in place of her hands, with Dawn in his arms instead of their children.

She wrote him often at first, asking about how he found the Landing, and _“Arthur, please, does the prince have a sense of humor at least?”_

He would write her back the day her letters arrived, full of assurances and tales of Rhaegar’s kindness and honor, for she had asked him to be happy for her and Prince Rhaegar really wasn’t that bad. He was a friend, even, if Arthur could even remember what the word meant anymore.

He slew the Smiling Knight and the smallfolk loved him, the Sword of the Morning, brave and chivalrous, everything a knight should be. He was all of that and more, for when he knighted Jaime Lannister the boy had stared up at him as if he was the Warrior himself.

She stopped writing soon after that, and Arthur had time to steel himself against loving her any longer, for she was to marry the man who had become his best friend and if there was one thing the Sword of the Morning couldn’t be, it was an oathbreaker.

Elia Martell arrived in the capital three moons after that decision, with a retinue of a hundred people, lords and ladies in droves, and a dowry of so many jewels and sand steeds that it put Cersei Lannister and the royal stables to shame in one go.

When he heard someone call him “Arthur” with the lilt of the Dornish for the first time in a year, his promise to himself became irrelevant and he smiled so brightly that the bards who saw the exchange would write songs about the valiant Ser Dayne and his secret heartache.

They defined it as his love for Dorne, though, not his love for her.

Prince Lewyn was made a Kingsguard a week afterwards, and gave Arthur the heartiest hug he had ever received. The aging man, still robust, made Arthur promise right there that he would protect Elia over all else. The pitying look he was given after he replied _Always_ , made him remember that Prince Lewyn knew him better than anyone else.

When he stood behind Rhaegar during the ceremony, he wanted to scream in frustration because he was so close to the groom’s spot, and _Gods, it was only one step_. Elia flashed him a look of worry before she was to utter her vows, and he smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

It must have worked, for she held her head higher after that, and spoke her lines clearly and with the determination he had fallen in love with the day she threw a blood orange right at his nose and reached her target.

When Rhaegar Targaryen kissed his bride and the smallfolk greeted their new princess, Arthur sighed among the cheers and said goodbye.

 

IV

When she had almost died birthing Aegon, Rhaegar had spent hours outside her door with his books, demanding reports from every maester and midwife to walk out of the room.

When she had screamed loud enough to wake the dead, it was Arthur’s hand she reached for and it was him that let her dig her nails into his arm and it was only him she would let wipe the tears from her face.

A Kingsguard’s duty was to protect the royal family at all times, and so just as the White Bull had been present for every one of Rhaella’s labors, Arthur had been assigned to be there for hers. He had not complained, not as Jonothor Darry had when he thought it was going to be him.

The bards wrote songs once more about the Sword of the Morning’s devotion and quiet strength, but they would never write songs about how he had cried when Elia closed her eyes for what the Maester had said would be the last time.

The old fool proclaimed it was a matter of time, that there was no need for “the loyal Ser Dayne” to continue keeping watch, but he disagreed, so he kept watch anyway.

She had taken many rests as a child in between their games, and she had always awoken afterwards. Arthur thought of the Water Gardens that he had not seen in seven years and promised the gods that if she woke he would take her back there.

On the fourth day, she opened her eyes at last and word was sent to Rhaegar. When he arrived. Elia’s gaze went to him, though Arthur preferred to think that was because Rhaegar came with the children.

As Rhaenys giggled and Aegon cooed, Rhaegar caught Arthur’s arm and thanked him for taking care of his wife, but _Ser Barristan can take over now_. Arthur hadn’t responded, so his friend simply shook his head and claimed that even the Sword of the Morning had to rest.

Barristan Selmy assured him that he had been cleared of any duties for the next day, to recuperate.

He had walked out slowly, hoping to catch Elia’s eyes and give her the reassurement he was sure she needed, as he had on her wedding day, but Elia didn’t look to him and Arthur had never felt so useless.

Before he could close the door, Rhaenys scampered out to hug his leg and thank him again. He had forgotten Elia’s dress, but Rhaenys’ eyes looked just like her mother’s did, and Arthur Dayne was reminded of the promise he had made Prince Lewyn. He smiled at Rhaenys, looked up, and saw that Elia was looking at him.

She nodded, just once, eyes sunken and face tired.

Arthur nodded back.

 

V

If you had asked Arthur Dayne who would be the one to lead him away from his post, he would not have said Rhaegar Targaryen.

Young Arthur Dayne would have said that nobody could do that, while silently thinking of Elia, and young Arthur Dayne had not even known who Lyanna Stark was.

The Sword of the Morning might have said that nothing could be worth a dishonorable post, and would have swept Elia and her children back to Dorne to protect them, perhaps bringing Lyanna Stark with him for good measure.

Ser Arthur had responded “nothing”, and had followed Rhaegar Targaryen to Dorne with the Stark girl riding ahead. Ser Arthur had stepped foot on Dornish soil for the first time in almost a decade to sully every promise had made while on it.

Lyanna Stark dropped back a bit, lowering her voice conspiratorially to ask, _Ser Arthur, please, does Prince Rhaegar ever laugh?_

He told her that the Prince laughed often, with the right people. After the Maester had said Elia could no longer have children, Rhaegar’s smile had dimmed. It was back now.

If Arthur ever told himself he didn’t know what this meant, it was to get the Sword of the Morning off his back.

She smiled at him, and for a second her eyes were Elia’s.

When Rhaegar left them both, he forgot to tell them of Brandon and Rickard Stark’s deaths. It had been up to Arthur to tell her when news came, to hold her as she cried and scream for a midwife when she had started to bleed from the pain. He was in a birthing room for the third time in his life, and this time he went into it with a certain confidence that it would go well.

When she called him Rhaegar and dug her nails into the grooves Elia had made years prior, he felt nothing but pity and shame and _guilt_. It gnawed at his heart until he wasn’t sure if anything remained.

When her brother arrived, he promised her he would be back soon, and begged her to be strong, and swore he was sorry, so sorry that she had ever met and trusted him, and _Gods, Elia, I swore so many vows_. 

When he received news of the Sack, Arthur would realize for the first time that the gods had been kind to him when they let him wait for her. Now that she had caught up to him, his woman of smiles and life, Arthur stopped fighting.

As he fought one man, he heard the crannogman sneak up from behind.

He forgave Ned Stark with one look as the knife rushed into his throat, yet as he gurgled his last, all Arthur Dayne could remember was:

_Uncle, won’t you let him be your squire?_

_He’s so kind, truly he is!_

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to focus more on Arthur and Rhaegar but that didn’t exactly happen. Timelines fudged a bit.


End file.
